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Frank had lost feeling in his left leg a while ago. His right arm had been next. His other one, which was stretched uncomfortably behind his head, was starting to prickle, but he didn’t dare move. His and Mel’s work backpacks were mashed into a pile behind his head, propping himself up enough that he could see the colored glow from the fireworks in the distance.
Several other hospital personnel had the same idea to gather on the roof. There were many people he didn’t recognize, but far off by the railing Javadi, Santos, and Whitaker stood in a huddled group, beers clutched in their hands. It’d taken several months, but the sight of Santos no longer gave him an overwhelming rush of self-hatred. They weren’t best buddies by any means, but he was happy to see her smirking at something Whitaker said as their faces flashed with colors. Frank was thankful he hadn’t screwed up her career on the day his life came crashing down. When the smoke cleared, he would have never forgiven himself.
On his other side, McKay and her son were in matching, worn lawn chairs. She looked as exhausted as felt, but her son was watching the fireworks with such a bright look in his eye, that he knew she didn’t care.
Frank hadn’t seen the kid arrive, but he assumed her parents must have dropped him off at the end of her shift, much like Abby had done. He wondered vaguely if it was Harrison’s choice to spend the holiday with his mom, or if the holiday arrangements were court ordered. A couple of years ago, the question wouldn’t even have occurred to him. But after months of lawyers, courtrooms, and paperwork, it was hard not to think about. He supposed it wasn’t really any of his business.
McKay must have felt him staring, because she glanced his way and raised a brow when she caught his eye. Shifting the can of diet-coke in her hand, she turned his direction. Half her face illuminated in a flash of purple sparks. “Something on your mind?”
“Nah.” He spoke a little too loud. The hand curled into the front of his scrubs tightened. He lowered his voice slightly and jerked his chin towards her son. “You guys usually spend the fourth together?”
McKay shrugged. “It depends. We let Harrison decide where to go each year. It’s just easier, letting him have control over it.”
Frank nodded in understanding. Towards the end, he and Abby may have been at each other’s throats, but it was never over the kids. He was the asshole, drug-addict husband who lost his wife’s trust and she was the backstabbing, lying wife who climbed into their neighbor’s bed for comfort the first chance she got.
Yeah, the end had been bad. Real bad.
But Abby was a killer mom and she knew Frank loved Penny and Tanner more than anything, so the fighting was never over the kids. It hadn’t stopped him from worrying though. When the divorce became imminent, his biggest fear had been losing them. Frank had never said it to her, but he’d been scared to death she’d use his addiction to take them. He used to lay awake at night wondering if he’d have to go weeks, or even months, without seeing their little grins and hearing their bright laughs. The thought used to kill him inside. It made him think about a bottle of pills.
“By the way, I kept forgetting to tell you,” McKay continued, her mouth quirking into a pleasant smile. “Happy anniversary. One year, right?”
He nodded subtlety, hoping the movement wouldn’t disturb the head tucked into his chest. “Yeah. A year today.”
“Man, time really flew by. I’m really glad you came back to us though.” She settled back into her chair as the sky flashed pink and blue. She raised the diet-coke to her lips, slightly shaking her head. “It’s crazy how much happens in a year.”
Frank wondered if she was speaking about him directly. It had been exactly a year since he had walked through the doors of the emergency department for the first time since attending rehab. A year since he wore his wedding ring just to keep the questions about his failed marriage at bay. A year since he almost killed several patients because of his self-doubt. A year since night-terrors about losing his kids kept him up at night.
A year since Mel turned to see him after a ten-month absence, her face beaming with a wide, toothy smile.
A year since Mel was the only one to believe in him.
A year since he stood with Mel in the ambulance bay, gazing at the fireworks.
It was funny in a way. So much had changed the last year, but the last detail hadn’t. He and Mel were still watching the fireworks together.
Well, sort of.
Mel was fast asleep. She was tucked into his left side, one of her hands twisting into the front of his scrubs while her cheek pressed into his chest. Half of her body was laid on the cement roof of the hospital, while the other had fastened itself around his leg. He felt a little bad that she’d fallen asleep, but despite insisting that she wanted to stay up for the fireworks, she’d work a double and the twenty-four hours of work had caught up to her.
Her glasses were lopsided on her face. He would have plucked them off her, but he was scared to move too much and wake the ticking time bomb with a red, white, and blue dress and ribbons in her hair.
Penny was curled in the gap between his legs. Her outfit was stained with what appeared to be ketchup and mustard and her sticky hands smelled overly sweet, like melted popsicles. When he pulled her from the car seat in the back of Abby’s car just an hour ago, he’d asked why she looked a picnic table threw up on her. Abby glared at him, stating she’d let the kids have enough sugar at the barbeque they’d attended to keep them up all night. That had wiped the smile off his face and she blew him a kiss as she rolled up the window.
Mel had laughed at that.
Abby must have gotten the sugar dosage to turn their kids into feral monsters wrong though, because Penny had been the first to fall asleep. Her auburn hair, which was strikingly similar to her mother’s, was falling out of her pigtails that rose and fell with each deep breath from her chest. Frank wondered if she’d transition into her own bed alright that night or if she’d spend it wedged in between him and Mel, her foot kicking him in the ribs most of the night. Likely the latter.
Tanner had fallen asleep last. He was six now and determined to be a big kid. He’d teased Penny, when she curled into her dad’s lap and yawned and even thought it was funny when Mel’s eyes had fluttered shut. He’d looked at Frank with a wide smile. There was a gap in his front teeth, and his mouth was stained blue from some dye-filled drink he’d spent the day sipping on, but he had the look of a little boy who was having the time of his life.
It didn’t take long though, for his day of running around someone backyard and shooting off fireworks had caught up to him. Opposite Mel, he took a similar position and rested his head against his dad. His dark hair, which was a mirror image of Frank’s, stuck to his scrubs with sweat but he didn’t care as she watched his son’s emerald eyes flutter close.
A year ago, Frank’s life had been crashing in around him. He’d been suffocating in a blanket of self-hatred and fear and had no reason to believe he’d ever break the surface.
Now, he was laying on an old blanket from the back of his car on the roof of the hospital. He had the world’s most beautiful blonde holding onto the front of his scrubs like her life depended on it and later, after a tired drive home, she’d be climbing into his bed. His daughter, who was a spit-fire just like her mother in the absolute best way, was tucked into his lap like it was the safest place in the world and his son, who was so eerily similar to himself that it almost scared him, curled into his side.
Therapy must have made him a simp, because Frank felt an odd lump in his throat as he glanced at the three figures clinging to him.
“Yeah,” he agreed to McKay. His voice cracked. “A lot sure does happen in a year.”